Delight: Legacies, #1

By Erin Osborne

Sydney 'Delight' Thompson
I had to grow up sooner than anyone else my age. I've had more responsibility on my shoulders than anyone else I've ever known. I'm not a woman; I'm a mother without having a child, a provider, and independent because my life made me that way. Now, my life seems to be changing better than I ever let myself dream possible. Can I keep the one person in my life I want, or will he choose to walk away because life happens when you least expect it?
Killian 'Bounce' Graves
I'm the Enforcer for Kings Vengeance MC. I do my job and take it seriously. The club is my family and my life. I don't want an ol' lady and kids aren't even a blip on my radar. I didn't grow up with good role models and I won't bring a child up the way I was. being a member of the club and working at Legacies, our strip club, I get all the women I want and don't need any complications. Until one woman changes the way I want to spend my life. Can I keep her? Or will someone's past rear it's ugly head to ruin us before we get started?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin Osborne
• Release date: Jun 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393337805

Book preview

Prologue

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Sydney a.k.a Delight

MY NAME IS Sydney Thompson, and this is my story. The story of how I started from nothing and made something of myself. It’s not pretty and the beginning of my life didn’t start out how it should have.

Instead of having loving parents that showed me love and took care of me, my dad died in a work accident when I was just a baby and I didn’t know my mom as anything other than a drug addict. Someone who chose to inject, smoke, and snort everything she could from the time she woke up until the time she passed out at night. I don’t have memories of being held or loved as a child. What I do remember of my dad is just the blubbered words my mom has said while intoxicated. My mom has done nothing for me other than blame me for the way her life turned out. I’m not sure how it’s my fault, but according to her I’m nothing and never will be. Other than a drain on her and anyone I ever meet in life.

On top of not being able to remember anything about my father, I don’t even know what he looks like. Any pictures of him were long ago destroyed. Either by my mother in her drugged-out rages or by the men she paraded in and out of our house. These men didn’t want to see any remnants of another man ever living in the house even though they didn’t bother staying around long themselves. So, to attempt to keep them happy, my mother got rid of anything belonging to, or showing, my dad. Those were the days I hated her more than anything and I wasn’t even fully old enough to realize what the emotion was.

Our house was in the poor section of Brighton Hills and it was the most run down house on the street we lived on. The siding was once a blue and now looks like it’s grey from the sun beating down on it and the years of neglect. It’s peeling in most places and the shutters for the windows are long gone. I can’t even remember what color they were. The grass is so high it brushes against my shins as I walk in and out of the yard. There’s no lawn mower because she sold it to get her next fix.

More times than not, I’d get home and we wouldn’t have any power in the house or running water because the bills weren’t paid. There were eviction notices left on the door almost monthly. My mom always found a way to pay them, but I think our rent was taken care of by her sleeping with the landlord. The other bills I’m sure she conned some man into paying for her along with making sure she had her next fix. Groceries came from food pantries most of the time because there was no money for food and the food stamps were sold for drugs. Yet no one ever called Child Protection Services on my mom because they just didn’t care enough to bother with a child like me and making sure I was protected and safe.

By the time I was five years old, I had more responsibilities than I knew what to do with. No other child my age could do laundry, make simple meals without cooking, or clean an entire house the way I could. Hell, most kids my age had age appropriate chores, but not me. My mom did absolutely nothing around the house. If she could’ve gotten away with keeping me out of school year-round, she would have so she never had to lift a finger for herself.

When I got to my early teenage years, my mom became disgusted by me. Well, first she was disgusted by me because I had school and I joined several groups just to stay away from the house as long as I could. These included cheerleading, drama club, and I did volunteer work at the local nursing home. When I was home, the men in my mom’s life started looking at me in a different way.

These men were old enough to be my father and they looked at me as if I were their next meal. They started finding excuses to be near me or touch me. The men disgusted me, and I didn’t want to be near them at all. These were the times I was thankful I could get out of the house for my many activities. Until the day my mom caught on to what was happening and started talking about pimping me out to these very same men. This was the first time I wanted to run away from home.

But I didn’t have any friends and I couldn’t handle living on the streets alone with no protection. So, my only option was to stay away from home as long as possible and then take whatever measures I could to ensure no one could get into my room while I attempted to get some sleep at night. This included placing my dresser or anything else that was heavy in front of the door so there would be a lot of noise to wake me up.

My room was on the ground floor so I could always climb out of the window if I had to. But I thankfully didn’t ever have to do that. I stayed away enough, I didn’t get pimped out by my own mother and I lived my life as quietly as possible.

With nothing more to do than study and go to the games and practices or drama club when they were putting on a play, I studied my ass off so I could get a scholarship into a college far from home. The farther I can get away from Brighton Hills, the better off I’ll be. So, my grades are exceptional and the only time I associate with other kids my age is when I’m assigned to a group project. Other than that, I’m just a girl from the wrong side of the tracks with a junkie for a mother. No one wants to associate with someone like me.

By the time I was eighteen, my life changed once again. My mom went and got pregnant and had a son. She doesn’t even know who the hell his father is. Karson Anthony is my brother and when I’m not at school, I’m busy taking care of him. There’re not enough hours in the day to take care of Karson, do my schoolwork, and do my other activities. It’s bad enough I’ve basically had to give up volunteering at the nursing home because I just don’t have the time. And Karson isn’t my child, but you might as well say I’m his mother because I’m the only one taking care of him.

I’ve also had to get a part-time job and limit the amount of time I’m away from the house with cheerleading and drama club. Thankfully the drama club isn’t doing any plays at the moment so that’s one less worry. Our neighbor watches Karson for me while I’m at school or at work so he’s not home with my mother. She’s never coherent enough to take care of him and constantly bitches about him crying when he’s waking up, hungry, or needs a fresh diaper. My neighbor, Mrs. Hanlan, knows this and has offered to help me out.

Anything Karson has is bought by me. Even if it came from the good will stores, I made sure he has a crib, a car seat, stroller, clothes, diapers, bottles, formula, and every other thing a baby needs. None of this is my responsibility, but if I don’t take care of him, no one else will. He’ll end up sick or worse if left in my mother’s care.

I’m constantly tired and struggling to stay awake at school and work because I can’t sleep at night. Karson is constantly getting up for a feeding and changing. So, I get little to no sleep and get through the day as best as I can. It’s not ideal, but it’s the hand I was dealt in this life. Karson will never grow up the way I did, and he will know he’s loved by me and only me.

Just before Karson turned a year old, I got home to find my mother dead in our kitchen. She still had the tourniquet and needle hanging from her fucking arm. Thankfully I hadn’t picked Karson up from Mrs. Hanlan yet. Instead, I called her to let her know what was going on before calling the cops to report my mother’s death. They showed up with an ambulance following them. The cops came in and took my statement before they let the coroner in to take her body away. Now, I had to figure out how to bury my mother because there was no extra money to take care of it.

So, once everyone vacated the house and I cleaned up the area where she died, I finally went over to get Karson. Mrs. Hanlan offered to let us stay at her house for the night, but that wasn’t possible. We needed to be in our own home, and she did more than enough to help me out to begin with.

I took Karson in my room and put him down for bed. She had already fed him and given him a bath before changing him into a pair of pajamas I had in his diaper bag. After he was asleep, I got my homework out and got to work on completing it, so I knew it was done and that took up hours. By the time I was done, Karson was waking up for his middle of the night feeding and he didn’t want to go back to sleep.

The next day, I dragged ass and barely made it through school awake. But I got through it, explained to my coach about the passing of my mother and left school. Instead of going to pick Karson up, I walked across town because I don’t have a car to make the arrangements to bury my mother.

After talking to the funeral director, a creepy old man who looks like he’s on his last leg of life, we decided to go with a plain box for my mom and a simple service at the cemetery. There wouldn’t be a viewing or anything else because no one will come to it and those things cost money to do. Money I don’t have.

After making sure everything was settled with the funeral home, I went to get Karson from Mrs. Hanlan and we made our way home. For the first time in my life, I didn’t do my homework. Instead, I got Karson ready for bed and I laid down with him. Karson is the only person in my family I have left and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do now. Or if someone is going to come to try to take him away from me. I won’t make it if I have to give my brother up.

As I thought about everything I had to do, I realized there was only a week left of high school and then I was free to live my life. Thankfully, I had already turned eighteen a month ago so I can legally stay on my own. Now, it’s just a matter of keeping Karson with me. My next thought was applying to the local daycare for a job. That way I can take him to work with me and have a decent job to try to get us out of the hell hole we currently call home. And finally, as sleep was claiming me, I thought of cleaning out all of my mother’s belongings and making this place as much of a home as possible for Karson. It sure as hell never felt that way to me, but he’ll never know that kind of life if I can help it.

Chapter One

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Sydney a.k.a Delight

Five years later

MY LIFE HAS been peaceful and simple with just Karson and me. I graduated high school and turned down my scholarships and college acceptances because I had to think of Karson. He’s mine no matter what anyone says. The daycare I work at knows the true parentage of him, just like they know I have full custody of him.

After dealing with my mother’s death, I contacted a lawyer through legal aid and got one to help me follow the proper channels to make sure Karson was legally mine. The first step was graduating school and getting a job to ensure I could take care of him on my own. Then, I had to clean the house up and make the necessary repairs. My landlord had me sign a lease and didn’t ask for a deposit or anything because my mother had already paid one. So, he took the money I spent on repairs off of the rent as long as I turned in the receipts and let me have free rein on what I did to the house. Well, as long as I didn’t paint the walls too dark for when I moved out eventually.

The landlord even brought me a lawn mower so I could take care of the yard. Once I got the grass taken care of, I planted flowers in the front of the yard and cleaned up the sidewalk. I even fixed all the loose and rotted boards on the porch so I can sand them down and refinish it when I have the time to do more work outside.

Inside, I’ve replaced the carpet, finished the hardwood floors, painted all the rooms we’re currently using, and bought new curtains for the windows. Slowly, I’ve been getting everything Karson and I need along with everything he has to have as he grows and starts kindergarten. Yeah, I work full time at the daycare while Karson spends his days at school now.

It didn’t take me long to clean my mother’s room out after she passed away. Honestly, instead of feeling sad or upset about her death, I felt relieved. That led me to believe I was the worst kind of daughter because I didn’t grieve my mother’s death. As far as I was concerned, she was just someone I shared a house with who beat me when things didn’t go her way. That included her not getting her fix, a man leaving her without giving her a piece of ass, or any other reason she could think up. I was able to avoid most of the abuse because I stayed away as much as possible.

All of her possessions went in the trash; there was nothing I wanted to keep or worth saving. The only thing I kept was a box of photos I found in her closet. It contained my birth certificate, my father’s death certificate, and a bunch of pictures. Most of the pictures showed my parents when they were younger. They looked happy and in love. Some of the pictures you could clearly see my mom was pregnant with me and most of the ones containing my father showcased motorcycles in the background along with men in leather surrounding him. I’m not sure what it means unless he was in a motorcycle club. That would make sense in a way because my mom always talked about a bunch of men she used to hang around with that left her high and dry when my dad lost his life.

She blamed these men for the hell she was in and wanted her husband back. The way she used to blather on, you’d think these men killed my dad. But, when she was slightly more coherent, I’d hear her say things about runs and clubs and things like that. Everything points to him being in a club of some sort. I wonder if it’s the club around Brighton Hills.

We all know they’re here; they frequent the town on a regular basis and make sure the drugs and crime rate are down. Hell, they usually run any dealers or pimps out of town as soon as they find them. Brighton Hills is their territory and they keep it safe. I’m not sure if my dad was ever a member of them or not, but I’d like to find out. Too bad I don’t have any run-ins with the guys in the club. They don’t tend to frequent the daycare or school. And I only go to the store while Karson is at school, while they’re probably still sleeping.

The club in Brighton Hills is the Kings Vengeance MC. Women in town go to their clubhouse on the weekends to have a wild night with a biker. Men in town want to be in the club with them. Most of them don’t have the balls to actually talk to anyone in the club though. I’ve heard whispered talks about their parties; sex in the open, drugs, loud music, and anything else you can think of. That’s never been my scene and I won’t go near anyone doing drugs now. My mother taught me a life lesson about being around people that use, and I don’t need to be near them ever again. So, I stay far away from the club even though I’d like to know if my dad was a member. I want to know if I have any family out there or just hear stories about the man my dad was before his life ended way too soon.

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The last five years have been rough to say the least, but I don’t regret keeping Karson with me at all. He’s the only bright spot in my life and I’ll do anything for him. Karson is a smart and loving boy. He’s just very quiet because of the trauma suffered when our mother was still alive. The doctors have tested him for everything they can think of and nothing is wrong with him. It’s just he’s quiet and doesn’t speak when he doesn’t have to or doesn’t want to. But, once he’s decided to talk to you, Karson is a funny kid and we laugh all the time. He just doesn’t talk around everyone.

My only friend is Santana and she doesn’t understand everything I’ve given up to be with Karson. According to her, I should be out partying and living my life the way a twenty-year-old normally does; partying, going to bars, going out on dates, and things like that. I’m more than happy to stay home and only go out occasionally when Karson and I go out to dinner. Or for ice cream when he’s done good in school. Santana has a loving family and doesn’t know the hell I grew up in. I haven’t told her that part of my life because I’m sure it would chase her away faster than I could blink.

Santana isn’t from Brighton Hills originally. Her family moved here when her grandmother got sick and passed away. They inherited her house and couldn’t imagine selling it to a stranger. So, they uprooted their lives to move here. Her mom works at the bank and her dad is a manager at the only car dealership in town. She has a younger brother and sister and her parents dote on all of them. The way I grew up is not anything she could ever begin to understand. So, I don’t try to explain anything to her about my past and growing up.

Karson, are you up, honey? I ask, walking into his room.

We had a bad night last night. Karson wasn’t feeling well and was up most of the night getting sick and running a low-grade fever. He got better in the early hours of the morning so he’s not going to school today, but he’ll be going to work with me. I’m allowed to bring him with me when he’s sick. Karson usually lays on a mat behind my desk and stays away from all the kids, so they don’t get sick.

Karson is still lying in bed, but he is dressed so that’s something. I pick him up and head to the small kitchen where a piece of dry toast is waiting for him to try to eat. I’ve had a small cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal already so I’m just waiting on Karson to get something small in his stomach so we can leave. It’s a little bit of a walk to get to the daycare so I get his stroller out of the closet and open it up before getting his bag and placing it on the handles of the stroller.

Within fifteen minutes, Karson and I are walking out the door. I’m already late for work and no one answered the phone when I called to let them know I’m running behind. It’s going to be at least another fifteen to twenty minutes before I get to work and clock in. Today is not going to be a good day at all.

Karson doesn’t talk or point out any animals we happen to see like normal. I know he’s still feeling like crap and I feel horrible I can’t do more to make him feel better. So, I keep up a steady conversation because I know he’s listening to me. I point out the squirrels, cats, and dogs in yards. When we get close to the daycare, I hear the rumble of pipes. Karson perks up and looks around for the source of the sound. He loves listening to motorcycles and other cars and trucks when they’re louder than normal.

Bike! he says excitedly, pointing a finger behind me as he sees them round the bend in the road.

I turn my head briefly and see several members of Kings Vengeance riding toward us. The only reason I know is the leather on their back and the man in the middle of the pack. None of them wear helmets while they ride in town because they don’t have to. There’s no helmet law in Brighton Hills and they take full advantage of it. I couldn’t ever imagine riding a bike with no helmet to protect my head. But, since I’ll never be on the back of a bike, I don’t have to worry about it.

As the bikes get closer to us, they slow down. I’m not sure if it’s because of the speed limit or Karson’s excited face still peeking around the edge of his stroller. The ground rumbles beneath my feet as I stop to bend over the top of the stroller and pull his blanket up further around his little body. It’s warm out, but I don’t want to risk getting him any sicker than he already is.

When the bikes pass us, they’re going as slow as they can it seems. Karson has his hands over his ears to cut out some of the noise from the pipes. One of the men toward the front of the pack lowers his hand from the handlebar and waves at my brother. He excitedly waves back before shoving his fingers in his mouth, a habit I’m trying to get him to break.

My eyes catch the man in the middle of the pack. He’s got short brown hair that’s blowing as the wind surrounds them. I can’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses covering them. He’s also got a bandana tied around the lower portion of his face, like most of the other men. There’s a quiet strength about the man as my eyes don’t break contact with his body. I can’t tell from the clothes he’s wearing, but he looks to have muscles in all the right places. Damn!

No man has ever captured my attention before. Or sent a shockwave of sensations through me. But I’ve seen this man around town before and it’s always the same thing with him. I know nothing about him, but I still respond to him for some reason. It’s the weirdest thing that’s ever happened in my life.

As the bikes get past us, I can finally tear my eyes from the man. They begin to speed up and their bikes get louder than before. If I thought the ground shook as they were passing us, it’s nothing compared to now. Thankfully, I don’t have time to think about it since the daycare is right next to me and I turn to go in the building.

Good morning, Patty, I say as I push Karson through the door.

Oh, good morning, Sydney. Um, Diedre wants to see you in her office before you go to your room, she tells me.

Patty is the receptionist for the daycare. She’s an older lady who loves to laugh and always has a smile on her face. While she smiles at me this morning, it doesn’t reach her bright blue eyes. I instantly know my morning is about to get worse. Nodding my head, I place a smile on my face and make my way down the hall and stop outside of Diedre’s office.

Diedre is the director of the daycare and she has been as lenient as possible with me. I’ve taken time off when Karson has been sick and brought him here with me after he started school when he’s been sick. She’s let me off when I’ve had meetings at the school or to pick him up when I needed to. Diedre is in her early forties. She’s got dark hair and brown eyes. She’s more serious than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. But, she’s fair, generous, and a great lady to work for. I’ve loved working here for the last five years.

Knocking on the door, I wait for Diedre to answer me. It’s not long before I hear her call out for me to enter.

Diedre, I’m sorry I’m late this morning, I immediately say. Karson was sick last night, and I overslept when I finally got to go to bed.

Sydney, please sit down, she begins. I know your situation isn’t ideal. You’re a great employee when you’re here and I know you have your hands full with Karson. But I can’t keep giving you breaks and letting you take time off. The rest of the staff has to pick up the slack and it’s not fair to them. Sydney, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to let you go.

For a few minutes, I sit in stunned

Reviews for Delight

[Ashley Johnson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It was a good book. Bounce got on my nerves with the hot/cold, push/pull thing going on. Even after all the trauma and craziness he still had his head up his butt. I kinda wished she gave him just a little bit more of a harder time because of it. Other than that the only thing I would have liked was a extended epilogue the day of or after the baby was born. And the situation with her father felt unfinished. She mentioned he was in a mc and wanted to ask about him but never took the opportunity to do it and see if anyone knew him